Days to Remember
by mi-chan2
Summary: Yaoi AU fic. Kenshin is a Brooklyn cop being hunted down by one freelancer-Yakuza by the name of Sagara Sanosuke... More parts to come.
1. Part One: Fall in April

Title: Days to Remember  
Author: Mi-chan  
Rating: R  
Series: Rurouni Kenshin (AU, Modern-day)  
Pairings: Hmmm... read and find out. =D  
  
  
Part One: Fall in April   
  
Fall.  
  
His favorite time of the year; not to hot, not too cold. Just right for rampaging around the streets of downtown Brooklyn City without a coat, but not quite warm enough for taking a dip at the Coney Island Beach. The only thing he missed were the yearly Sakura trees that bloomed every April as they did in his homeland; America had it's upsides and it's downsides, he guessed.  
  
Sighing, Himura Kenshin adjusted the black Fedora atop his head. America had been a blessing in disguise. After his father-by-adoption discovered his involvement with the Japanese Yakuza, the yearly vacation to Japan to visit relatives had turned into a full blown immigration, complete with sending Kenshin off to the military at eighteen. He had a long, hard time to ponder his crimes. And, without the harsh punishment with loving intentions that his father had administered, Kenshin would not be where he was now.  
  
It was kind of ironic; he had become something that only a little over a decade years he considered his worst enemy: A cop. A detective, even, and a damn good one at that.   
  
Kenshin fixed his gaze at the Bagel Point Cafe, they're favorite meeting place, and smiled. "She's waiting for me, that she is. I hope she's not angry." Kenshin stopped abruptly in his tracks, laughing to himself as he thought, _Uhm... but Kenshin, when is she ever not angry with you?_  
  
Kenshin hated being punctual. It simply was not in his nature; one of those bad habits he had acquired in the past that took way too much persistence for his peace of mind to break. Entering the cafe, he recognized the young woman sitting in the booth back in the corner, cradling a halfway demolished cup of latte and watching the door impatiently for her companion.  
  
Kenshin greeted her with his most genuine smile, though he did not feel it. He knew what was going to come next.   
  
"Kenshin," she growled, flames erupting in those dark eyes. She grabbed for hair and pulled, rising a yelp of pain mixed with terror from the man. "How many times have I told you?! You can't be late anymore for lunch!"  
  
The redheaded one sighed, taking off his Fedora and running a hand through his newly trimmed hair. He bitterly growled low in his throat; what had compelled him to allow Kaoru to come within ten inches of his head with a pair of scissors? He sighed, his face wearing a faux smile at the memory. Now he remembered. He hadn't exactly been _sober_ that night.   
  
"Miss Kaoru, I apologize. I know how your work limits you these days," he soothed, sliding into his seat. Brushing a red lock out of his face, he waved down the waitress to order his lunch. "Speaking of which, how are things at work?"  
  
Kamiya Kaoru, forgetting her companion's late arrival, fixed her gaze out the window. "It's... alright. It's hard, you know. I mean... I've been at this job for the past five years. I know what those kids have been through, having been orphaned by our late father myself... it's difficult, you know."  
  
"Yes. Yes, I know all too well. You and I, we aren't much different in that respect, that we are not," Kenshin spoke to no one in particular, joining Kaoru in her gazing out the window. The people on the streets passed them by, busy little bees in this much bigger beehive, this huge country full of opportunity and freedom.   
  
Kenshin thought of the different families he had been a part of then. To be more particular, he was thinking of the one that adopted him back in Japan when he was fourteen... He had been the black sheep of_ that_ family. He hated them all with bitter passion at first, until the loving persistence of one Kamiya Kaoru bestowed upon him love and kindness he thought only capable in stories. She had brought him out of his shell, shown him the life he could lead, if only he so desired change. But was it really possible, with Kenshin's past constantly coming back to haunt him?  
  
His true parents were murdered when he was only six, marking the instance of his first 'adoption' into a new family: The Yakuza. The root of his problems, his bitterness towards authority.... his sorrow. And the beginning of his criminal record.  
  
Kenshin sipped his water, forcing back the memories. His eyes wandered to Kaoru's briefcase on the floor. It was true, Kaoru was a lot busier nowadays. What with the crime rate on a constant rise, and the number of abused and orphaned children increasing, it had taken all of Kaoru's energy just to keep up with it all. Being a social worker was not much different from the job he himself had taken up. Instead of saving misfortunate children, he was putting the bastards causing said misfortunes behind bars. Thieves, rapists, smugglers, drug dealers, child abusers... all punishable by the law. Kenshin felt no remorse for treating these people with the same "courtesy" that they had bestowed upon others.  
  
And yet... he hated the system. He hated it all. After all, he himself was a reformed criminal. If the system let someone like him change their ways, there was hope for everyone, he supposed. That in itself made him feel somewhat remorseful--but the law was the law. And he couldn't help but regret having to enforce such a hypocritical system.  
  
"How is Yahiko?" Kaoru spoke up, smiling prettily. Kenshin had to admit, she was cute when she showed her concern.   
  
"Well, he's staying in school," Kenshin reassured, thanking the waitress when she brought him his usual raspberry/blueberry frappuccino. "And he's been studying very hard, that he has. Just last week, he aced his Geometry test."  
  
"Wow," Kaoru blinked. "What an improvement. A month ago he couldn't even write his own name. I felt so bad for him back then... I think bringing him to America was the best thing we could have done for him."  
  
"Yeah... at least the Witness Protection Program can keep an eye on him and keep him safe from his 'ties'," Kenshin said, sipping his frappuccino with utmost care. He savored the fruity taste, wondering how he could have survived his younger years without knowing such blissful commodities.   
  
"You know... if he ever becomes too much trouble for you, the offer still stands," Kaoru whispered, casting her eyes away to nothing in particular. "I can always take him in for you."  
  
Kenshin smiled, admiring the woman's strength--and a bit annoyed by her stubborn nature. He knew that, quite frankly, neither one of them had the time to take care of a child. Kaoru even more so, ever since she started working double time. And yet, she still insisted.  
  
"It's alright, Miss Kaoru. Yahiko and I are getting along just fine, that we are," Kenshin informed cheerfully, a sheepish grin spreading across his thin lips. In fact, that was a modest statement. Yahiko downright idolized every fiber of his being and worshipped every bone in his body. And while he wasn't quite content with the notion of a child looking up to someone who once masqueraded around the streets of Kyoto as a thug himself, he felt somewhat... touched. He truly loved the boy, like his own son.  
  
But... Kenshin was horrible at math. The aced Geometry exam had been entirely Yahiko's doing. Surely, that was a good sign. The boy could hold his own, and he was changing because _he_ chose to, not because some lame-brain cop and flighty social worker forced it upon him to conform.  
  
Kaoru nodded; she loved the boy just as much. She knew Kenshin would be a great influence on Yahiko, despite his flaws; the boy had seen and been through way too much, replacing his mind with the mentality of one three times his 15 years.   
  
Kaoru thanked the waitress as she was handed the bill. Reaching for her purse, Kenshin gently grabbed her hand. "No, Miss Kaoru. This one's on me."  
  
A slight blush crept all the way up to the roots of her bangs at the contact; her older brother-by adoption still had that effect on her. Mentally shaking it off, she scolded herself. Kaoru had long thought herself rid of those emotions. Kenshin was family, for Christ's sake. She'd known the red-head since she was seventeen...  
  
"Why, Kenshin?"  
  
The scar-face redhead renegade-turned-good-guy cocked his head. "Oro?"  
  
"You know you don't have to call me 'Miss'. It's so... formal."  
  
Kenshin scratched his head. He had never truly thought about that one... so he did his best to do so now. "Well... it's because I respect you, Miss Kaoru. Ever since both your--err, _our_ parents died... you've managed to pull your own weight, no help from me. I... admire that, that I do."  
  
"And it has nothing to do with the three years of military Dad put you through?" Kaoru teased, thrusting a finger onto the tip of his nose.   
  
Kenshin chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with a nervous hand. "You wouldn't believe some of those female drill sergeants I had. They could yell so hard, the thatch work would fly off the rooftops."   
  
Kaoru laughed a bit, the first genuine laugh he'd heard from the woman in ages. Throwing down a few dollars for a tip before Kenshin could protest further, she grabbed her step-brother by the arm and led him outside.  
  
* * *  
  
From a nearby alley, a man dressed in a freestyle Cerruti 1881 suit carefully puffed away at a cigarette. He watched as the red head detective exited the Bagel Point Cafe, his dark-haired sister clinging to his arm. They seemed to be happy, their faces lit up with laughter as Himura Kenshin entertained his companion with goofy expressions only his physique was capable of.   
  
"Now's as good a time as any," he muttered, putting out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and tossing it aside. He knew the news he bared would be hard on the girl...   
  
Hajime Saitou grinned his most evil grin.  
  
* * *   
  
"I can't believe you did that!" Kaoru laughed. "You actually let him have a _taste_?" She had to admit... sometimes the crazy antics of her brother made her question his morality.  
  
"He was so insistent that he could handle it, that he was," Kenshin chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "How was I to know he's never had sake before?"  
  
"He's fifteen, you moron," Kaoru smacked him playfully on the arm. "And just because he was a thug at one time doesn't mean he was an alcoholic as well."  
  
Kenshin nodded. "You're right... but you should have seen the look on his face just before he passed out, that you should have." The two reached the crosswalk, where he continued: "I'll tell you this much; I am never making that mistake again. He spent all next morning sick as a dog, praying to the Porcelain God, that he did."  
  
Kaoru giggled some more. "It's too bad he likes you so much. I don't think I could take him away from you even if I tried."  
  
Hajime Saitou popped up beside Kaoru then, tapping her on the shoulder. Instinctively, utilizing her training in marital arts (one could never be too careful when walking the streets of downtown Brooklyn), her foot when flying for the man's face, only to be caught in his iron grasp.  
  
"Now, now, Miss Kamiya. Is that any way to greet a friend?" Saitou scolded, fixing his cold gaze on Kenshin. He knew that he couldn't have pulled that same stunt with the ex-criminal. Kenshin was too damn good for that.   
  
Kaoru relaxed, bowing slightly, a habit embedded deep into her psyche due to her Japanese upbringing. "I'm sorry!" she apologized sheepishly, sweat forming on her brow. She never did like Saitou that much; maybe it was how scary he was, with his hair slicked back and eyes that could pierce cold steel.  
  
Kenshin sighed. "Is lunch break over already?"  
  
"The Chief just informed me of a new case," Saitou smoothed, sticking his hands in his pockets and joining them as they trekked across the street towards the police station. "A big one... one that might require some travel."  
  
"Oro?" Kenshin raised an eyebrow.  
  
"To Japan."  
  
"Japan?" Kaoru asked, a little shocked. They were Brooklyn cops; their jurisdiction wasn't valid in other countries. "What business could you two have in Japan? I mean--"  
  
Kenshin cut Kaoru off with a gentle hand gesture. "What's all this about, exactly?"  
  
"I'll tell you when we get to the station," Saitou said, lighting up and puffing away at another cancer stick. "It's too... big to talk about out here. Someone may hear us."  
  
Kaoru glanced at her watch and yelped in terror. "Yikes! Damn, I'm gonna be late!" Giving Kenshin a quick pat on the back, Kaoru took off down the street. "I'll give you a call tonight to find out what's going on, Kenshiiiiiin!"   
  
Kenshin blinked as a cloud of dust trailed the dark-haired woman in her wake. He shook his head, and focused his attention on the solemn man beside him. "You couldn't say anything around her, could you?"   
  
Saitou frowned. "She worries about you too much.... if she knew that this case involved all those skeletons in your closet, she'd never let you out of her sight. And you know what could happen to her if she gets in the way."  
  
Kenshin nodded mournfully. "Yes. I know."  
  
  
* * *  
  
Back at the station, Kenshin handed Saitou a cup of coffee and plopped down at his desk. "Well, go ahead and spill. What's the Chief got you all more serious about than usual?"  
  
"It's about that kid of yours... Myoujin Yahiko," Saitou said, sipping a bit of the brew. He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs.   
  
"You mean... it's the Yakuza."  
  
Saitou nodded. "Yes. But it's the Shishio Clan this time," he said rather bluntly.  
  
Kenshin's heart froze at the sound of those words coming out of his partner's mouth. "Shi... shio?" He couldn't believe his ears... not again, not again! When would the ghosts of his past stop coming back to haunt him?   
  
"I know how you're feeling right now, Himura. I was there, too, or have you forgotten?" Saitou deadpanned, closing his eyes in some long-forgotten memory. He was a cop then, too, the first time he met--and fought--Himura Kenshin. Funny, Saitou mused, how things can change.  
  
Kenshin silently wished he were as strong as his scarred exterior portrayed. He trembled a bit, swallowing hard. "So... what exactly does the Chief expect us to do? If they're breaking Japanese laws there's nothing we ourselves can do about it, that there is not."  
  
"Himura, when I mentioned before that 'someone' might overhear us if I were to speak to you about this in public, I wasn't just talking about Miss Kamiya," Saitou said rather coldly. "The Yakuza is here."  
  
Kenshin lowered his frightful stare to the floor, his red locks curtaining his amethyst eyes. "And... Chief wants us to handle this case, I take it."  
  
Saitou nodded. "We are the only two cut out for this case, Himura. We know first hand how the Yakuza works," he paused to set his coffee cup on his desk. "And you especially. You once worked for the Shishio Clan, did you not?"  
  
"Yes," said Kenshin, his voice lowered beyond a whisper. Saitou had to strain his professionally trained hearing to catch it.  
  
"Then you're perfect for this case," he said. "Now, as far as Yahiko goes--"  
  
Kenshin finely tuned his own hearing. If Yahiko was in danger, he couldn't be careless. "Yahiko," he cut in. "Yahiko... had nothing to do with Makoto Shishio and his clan. Why--"  
  
"Yahiko has ties to you, Himura. That's enough for him to be used as bait to conveniently lure you into whatever trap they've got set. If you value that kid, I suggest you keep him under lock and key until that rat bastard is behind bars," Saitou lit up another cigarette, fogging up their tiny office. Kenshin blanched at the smell. If there was anything worse he hated than Makoto Shishio himself, it was those damn cancer sticks that Saitou lived on.  
  
Saitou grinned at his partner's discomfort, and continued. "Word has it, Shishio has sent someone here to America after you. A dangerous man--a freelance Yakuza."  
  
"Do we have any leads--a name? A description? Eyewitnesses?"  
  
"A name--" Saitou said between puffs. "--a dark fellow." Handing Kenshin a folded up paper, Kenshin's heart caught in his throat as he read the name aloud.  
  
"Sagara... Sanosuke."  
  
  
  
to be continued....  
  
  
  
Notes for part one:  
  
Kenshin's hat is a Fedora hat made out of 100% beaver from Nathaniel's of Colorado and costs $535.00. No, really. I researched this too. ^_^ Look it up online sometime.  
  
The Bagel Point Cafe really does exist in Brooklyn. Where at exactly, I have no idea (I've never been to New York .). I just wanted a sense of modernism in my fic, since that's when it takes place, so I searched for real-life places and things. After all, Watsuki-sensei did the exact same thing when he created Rurouni Kenshin. And remember, this *is* AU and I have the freedom to mess around with ages/places and whatnot. ^_^  
  
There are two types of Yakuza: 1) clan, and 2) freelance. Sanosuke, in my story, is a freelance-Yakuza. Often times freelancers are hired by clan-Yakuza. However, sometimes the clan-Yakuza will tip the police off on crimes a freelancer may have committed.  
  
  
  



	2. Part Two: The East Calls

Title: Days to Remember  
Author: Mi-chan   
Rating: R  
Series: Rurouni Kenshin (AU, Modern-day)  
Pairings: Hmmm... read and find out. =D  
  
  
Part Two: The East Calls  
  
"Tadaimaaaaaa!" Myoujin Yahiko shouted, his voice ringing throughout the small apartment. Plopping his bag and trumpet case down on the floor, he made his way for the kitchen, where Kenshin usually was this time of day. Kenshin always got home before he did, what with jazz band practice after school always running late.  
  
A blonde boy poked his head through the door, his large brown eyes narrowing into tiny slits. "Mr. Himura's not home yet, is he?"   
  
"Not yet, Yutarou," Yahiko grinned slyly, licking his lips as he looked his friend up and down. Yutarou's face turned red as a turnip, sweat forming on his brow and running down to his chin.   
  
"Right now?! Here?!" Yutarou cringed as Yahiko slammed and locked the door, leading Yutarou by the hand to his room.   
  
"Damn, you're such a baby," Yahiko spat, throwing Yutarou down on his nicely made bed. That was one of the advantages of having a foster father that couldn't keep still; every room was always clean, even his own. "It's not like we're going to do anything, just... make-out until our tongues fall off."  
  
Yutarou blushed again. Of course he'd be a little reluctant to go any further. It wasn't right for Kenshin not to be home when they got back from practice. He could virtually come home any moment; and Yahiko was being too damn careless for Yutarou's tastes. "Yahiko-kun...."  
  
"Drop the formalities, Yu," Yahiko said, lunging for the crook between Yutarou's neck and shoulder with his tongue. He steadily licked a path up to the blonde boy's mouth, pressing his lips firmly and requesting entrance.   
  
With that, the dreaded knock at the door sounded. Yahiko leapt twenty feet into the air, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling fan. Good thing the fan wasn't on, Yutarou thought, or Yahiko would have lost more than just his composure.  
  
The door crept open slowly; the two boys adjusted their clothes, fixed hair, and wiped away sweat. A strange, dark figure wearing a black trench coat stood in the doorway, the man's piercing blue eyes drilling a hole through Yahiko's poise. Yahiko stammered: "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Shinomori Aoshi just glared.  
  
Kenshin popped his head out from behind the tall man, his face cheery as ever. "Oi, sorry for coming home late, Yahiko." Kenshin noted Yutarou's presence and acknowledged him with a nod.   
  
"Good evening, Mr. Himura," the blonde boy stuttered, nearly giving away how uncomfortable this situation was.  
  
"I see you two have met Mr. Shinomori," Kenshin chirped. "I've got some business to attend to tonight, so Mr. Shinomori's going to watch over you two while I'm gone, that he is."  
  
Yahiko choked. A _babysitter_?! "Wha--?"  
  
Kenshin adjusted his apron, the same pink and yellow polka-dotted one he wore when cooking. "I'm heading back to the station tonight to get some extra work done, Yahiko. And someone needs to be here tonight in case I get any important... 'phone calls'."  
  
Yahiko caught the glint in Kenshin's eyes. He could detect such subtleties from a mile away, and Kenshin knew it. The dark-haired boy nodded, turning his attention to Yutarou. "Oi... did you say you'd be able to stay for dinner? I'm sure Kenshin'd be glad to have you over."  
  
Kenshin nodded, his eyes smiling. "Sure, but he needs to go home right after. You have some major studying to do for your Government exam tomorrow." _Not to mention he may be in danger in case anything happens... _Kenshin thought.  
  
Shinomori Aoshi sighed, leaning up against a wall as Yahiko and Yutarou rushed out into the living room to repossess the satellite television. "So, Himura... are you going to explain to me exactly what this is about?"  
  
Kenshin closed his eyes, reducing his voice to the barest whisper. "Yes... but I'll explain before I leave. Just trust me... I need you right now. Yahiko's in trouble. And Miss Misao might be, as well. It'd be best if we all kept an eye out."  
  
Aoshi darted his piercing gaze Kenshin's way. "Are you telling me I _shouldn't _have left Misao at home, then?"  
  
"No," Kenshin replied. "...And yes. Misao's not in any danger as long as she doesn't get involved... but now that I've asked _you_ to help, she's going to follow."   
  
Sighing, Aoshi nodded.   
  
Misao... The girl was so much trouble. Not in a bad way, though. Aoshi knew he had to keep an eye on her, but doing so without putting her in danger? Hardly. Danger enjoyed torturing Kenshin so much that it liked to bring his friends along for the ride.  
  
"I'll keep an eye on Yahiko for you then," Aoshi said in his usual monotone, his dark eyes contrasting with Kenshin's own bright orbs. "But... if I think Misao is in any danger, at any point, in any way--" Aoshi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "--I'll leave."  
  
The redhead nodded in agreement. "And I wouldn't blame you if you did, that I would not."  
  
* * *  
  
Dinner passed without incident, as usual. Aoshi listened from afar to the relaxed conversation at the table as the small family enjoyed their meal. Aoshi politely declined when Kenshin offered him a chair, telling them of the dinner Misao had so graciously prepared for him at their Aoiya Restaurant before he arrived. He hadn't given Misao the slightest hint as to where he was headed, and due to her persistence and pig-headed stubbornness, Aoshi found himself breaking her heart once again by telling her to butt out.   
  
Misao had simply smiled, a few tears threatening to fall, and went back to serving her customers. He felt like such a bastard for doing it to her... but it really was for her own safety. He couldn't stress that enough for her, that there were certain things she just didn't need to get involved in.   
  
But Aoshi knew that if something were to happen, Misao would sense it somehow or another, like she always did. She'd come after him, and she'd be in danger as well. He knew it would happen.  
  
All he had to do is wait.  
  
* * *  
  
Himura Kenshin sighed. Three hours overtime, and still no clue as to the whereabouts of the man known as Sagara Sanosuke. The name bothered him... Sagara... where had he heard that name before? It was most definitely from his past... his past in the Yakuza. But he had never met the guy before. And, this 'Sagara Sanosuke', being a freelance Yakuza, there was a slim chance of them having ever crossed paths before.  
  
Lowering his hat over his eyes, Kenshin's stomach gurgled. He knew he shouldn't have stopped by the Akabeko Bar for a drink, but this case had gotten him rather weary lately. He needed something to dull the numbing pain he felt in his head, and alcohol had seemed like a good idea at the time. He wasn't sure who this Sagara fellow was, or why he was after him, but it was obviously _not_ good. For the Shishio Clan to hire a freelancer to track him down, it was quite apparent that Makoto Shishio didn't want to draw attention to himself. Instead, the blood would be on the hands of some stranger that was expendable.  
  
_Does Shishio think me that dangerous? _Kenshin thought. _Of course he does... and not just because of my abilities. It's because I know too much._  
  
Kenshin stopped by a lamppost, resting against it for a moment to gather his thoughts. If Shishio were after him, it would be for either one of two things: 1) to recruit him again, or 2) to kill him. Either way, he was screwed. Kenshin knew that his past ties would come back to haunt him someday... but why now? Why now, when he was finally happy with his life, when he had such wonderful people around him? Why now, when he was working a job he actually enjoyed and at the same time atoned for his past crimes?  
  
He feared the worst for Yahiko... he really didn't want to leave him alone tonight, even if he knew he could trust Aoshi. He also knew the entire Brooklyn police department would do whatever was needed for Yahiko's protection... but, being the reformed rebel Kenshin was, he wasn't sure how well he could trust any of them. Hell, he hardly trusted his partner, Saitou, at times. But he knew he could rely on Shinomori Aoshi. They had been through a lot together during their time in America, and no one knew of his involvement with the Yakuza better--save Saitou Hajime.  
  
Casting his eyes skyward, Kenshin winced when the first few drops from the impending storm rained down on his face. Being too preoccupied with the rain, he didn't pay much notice to the looming figure that approached.   
  
Another reason why he didn't drink that often. It numbed not only his head and his skills, but impaired his judgment as well.   
  
"Excuse me," the low voice grumbled. "But could you tell me where the Bagel Point Cafe is?"  
  
Kenshin thought a moment. Every native to Brooklyn knew where the Bagel Point Cafe was. And the voice asking him such was thick with a Japanese accent; reason told Kenshin he should be more cautious of this fact. But reason was a bit sluggish tonight due to the practice of throwing back a few to dull the throbbing all this mayhem had created in his head.  
  
And now, his instincts trying to take over, his head hurt even worse. Kenshin faltered a bit, stumbling over his words. "Oro..." he began, lifting his gaze to meet the dark eyes of the man before him. "It's just down that street there, on your left--"  
  
The dark man slapped on a crooked grin and his eyes sparkled. "Thank you, Mr.--" he paused, rubbing his chin. "--Your name is Himura Kenshin, isn't it?"  
  
Reason finally erupted into panic, forcing Kenshin to leap away in preparation for an impending fight. Was this the guy? Was this the freelancer Shishio sent after him?  
  
"What? Are you surprised I knew your name?" The man said, stepping into the light provided by the streetlamp. He was a dashingly handsome man, with an angular face curtained by wild, spiky locks of dark chestnut hair. His brown eyes glinted in the light, faking a sense of innocence that Kenshin knew was not present. "Your scar gave it away."  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Kenshin hissed, his eyes narrowing into golden slits.   
  
"I've been waiting a long time to meet you, Mr. Himura. For you see, I've got a score to settle with you... one that's been the cause of my pain since I was eight years old," the man growled, his throat rumbling in anticipation for the battle to come. "Oh... and the name is Sagara Sanosuke."  
  
Kenshin swallowed hard, his face turning pale. What the hell did he mean, 'a score to settle'? "I don't understand--we've never even met, you and I!"  
  
The rain was coming down harder now, matting the freelancer's bangs to his dark face. "I'm hurt. And here I thought men like you revel in knowing the names of your victims," Sanosuke began, scratching his chin. "Doesn't matter though--you can call me Zanza. I'm a fighter for hire, dontcha know. And you--" he continued, cracking his bandaged knuckles. "--Aren't even going to have a chance to scream."  
  
Kenshin staggered a bit, cursing himself for being so careless tonight. The news of Shishio's plans had_ just_ gotten to him; and their clan was very indirect when it came to execution. Shishio pleasured himself in the feeling of dragging things out...   
  
Kenshin had underestimated the freelancer before him, however.   
  
"What? Scream? Before you kill me, you mean?" Kenshin grinned slyly, flipping a dagger out from a sleeve. "I don't think Shishio gave you the low-down on me, did he? I've been fighting since I was six years old."  
  
"That's funny!" Sanosuke laughed. "So have I! You 'reformed' clan-Yakuza... you're all alike. So selfish and too full of yourselves to realize what your actions are doing to us, the lower people on the food chain. I'll let you in on a little secret--" Sanosuke smiled. "Shishio's paying me for this, true. But I would have come after you anyway."  
  
The red-haired cop blinked in confusion. Just what was this guy's beef? First he claims he wants revenge on Kenshin... then he says he has nothing to do with Shishio?   
  
Sanosuke worked out the kinks in his neck and stretched a bit. "I can assure you, I've got no business with him. This fight is entirely personal on my part... but he was offering quite the chunk of money for you're head on a silver platter. So why not cash in on the deal too?"   
  
Kenshin chewed on his bottom lip, trying his damnedest to figure out just what it was that made this guy tick, besides revenge. He didn't even know what said revenge was _for_.... True, he killed a lot of people back in his assassin days for Shishio and his clan. And he had known the names of all his victims. Those names haunted him even to this very day; they kept him awake at night as he stared at the ceiling, the familiar sensation of tears flooding his pillow. But... he could not, for the life of him, recall the name 'Sagara' in that long list. And with the glimmering promise of money in the deal... it was going to be even harder to convince Sanosuke otherwise.  
  
"I already knew--" Kenshin began, lowering his voice to dangerous levels. "--That he wanted me dead. It's only reasonable that he would--I know everything about his operation. And I'm a cop. I could easily tip the authorities as to his whereabouts. I'm a threat to him."  
  
"As you are to everyone around you," Sanosuke beamed. "What about that boy you took in? He's in danger now that he's met you. If you would have left the kid alone on the streets the Yakuza would have pitied him and given him a nice home."  
  
"But it would not earn him the kind of reputation--or start in life--that he deserves," Kenshin growled. "That kid is brilliant--he's got a lot of potential. I don't want to see it wasted!"  
  
Sanosuke "tsked", waving a finger at the shorter man. "That right there--that's going to be your downfall. You've grown too soft."  
  
"Not soft," Kenshin muttered. "Just a little more appreciative of life."   
  
"Hmph," the freelancer said. "Whatever. Can we fight now? I really don't want to have to reschedule my flight tonight."  
  
"I thought you'd never ask," Kenshin sarcastically said in monotone, lunging forth with daggers in his hands--and eyes. It had been much too long since he'd had the chance to fight freestyle for a change--so much order to battle and defeating your opponent was involved when he arrested criminals. He liked the wild unpredictability of this kind of thirsty, personal battle. It was invigorating knowing there was much more than just his job on the line.  
  
For being such a tall and lanky man, Sanosuke didn't look that fast--in fact, he wasn't. Kenshin was just so out of practice--and not quite sharp enough after the Akabeko--to keep up with the freelancer's powerful movements. A strong fist clubbed Kenshin in the stomach, making him wretch as a fresh trail of crimson blood found it pouring out from his gaping mouth. He choked and sputtered a bit, not before freeing himself from Sanosuke's second blow; this one aimed for his back.   
  
Kenshin flew through the air like the nimble little ex-assassin he was, bounding well away from the solid fists of his opponent. _Shit_ , Kenshin cursed himself mentally. _This guy's built like a brick house. I can surely out run him from this distance, but my strength is no match for his._  
  
Sanosuke grinned, barely taking note of the warm, sticky, wet crimson that found itself staining his sleeve. He merely shook his head in disappointment and advanced forward once more. "I'm disappointed, Mr. Himura. I was told you might be out of practice--but _this_? I didn't even think I'd be able to land a punch so early--and so effectively--during our fight."  
  
Kenshin felt his vision wavering, the blood still dripping out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Sanosuke was close--dangerously close. Close enough to hit him again; and Kenshin knew that he couldn't take another blow like that and live to tell about it. But every nerve in his body was shot.   
  
Kenshin collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach. The freelancer stopped just a breath's length away, lowering himself so that he may look into those purple, glaring pools that silently cursed their owner's negligence.   
  
Sanosuke smiled. "You... Himura Kenshin. Such a pretty thing... too bad Sagara-sensei's spirit won't rest until you're dead ..." Without warning, a hand came slashing upwards, slicing Sanosuke across the face. Kenshin readied the dagger for another blow, this time to the gut, but before he could do so a hand came crashing down into the back of his neck. The world around Kenshin went blurry, then completely black as his senses took leave.  
  
Sanosuke cringed at the gash across his cheek. "Little bastard," he said, spitting on the unconscious form below him. "I doubt that killed you... but damn, you'll sure be feeling it in the morning!"  
  
Scanning the battlefield, Sanosuke discovered the hat that once sat atop the former assassin's head... he kind of liked that hat. With a flip of his wrist, the hat rested upon his own chestnut locks, shielding the drizzling rain from his dark eyes. Yes, the hat was good. He could get used to it.  
  
_ Ah, hell..._ Sanosuke sighed. _I knew I couldn't kill the poor jackass. It's just not in my nature..._ Sanosuke realized that revenge was useless in matters like these. Revenge only brought upon more killing, more sadness, and the cycle would never end. No, he just wanted to beat spit-less the man who killed his beloved Sagara-sensei, and maybe salvage something valuable in the process. He could easily take the beaten cop to Shishio himself and let the burnt man do with Kenshin as he pleased, since Shishio specified that he'd take the redhead back dead _ or_ alive. But at that rate, it'd be hard to smuggle a body through the security check at the airport. He'd have to have Tsunan borrow a personal plane from one of his buddies through his American 'connections'. He was already late as it was... their flight left in an hour.  
  
Searching the limp form of his defeated opponent, he discovered a wallet, a gun, some chewing gum... and a shitload of concealed knives. Curiously, Sanosuke unbuttoned the man's shirt and sure enough, more knives and other assorted weaponry were strapped to Kenshin's chest. _Wow..._ Sanosuke thought. _This guy travels ready for anything... Is that what it's like, living a fearful life of atonement for one's past sins?_  
  
The freelancer rummaged around a bit more, examining the tattoos typical of one who worked for the Yakuza. In the Yakuza, tattoos were symbolic of strength and a sign of one's belonging to their clan; a badge, of sorts. Sanosuke had an idea: the arms! The arms, for assassins, were like a tallying board. Black rings were usually tattooed around the arm to specify how many people a particular assassin killed. Nowadays, it was unusual for an assassin to do this; such things just went out of style after a while. But Sanosuke perceived Himura as one who had a little bit more respect for tradition than most.  
  
Pulling the shirt completely off, Sanosuke gasped. Twenty-five rings... on each arm... totaling fifty. Fifty people lost their lives to this man. Fifty.  
  
_Fifty... fifty!_ His mind repeated. Sweat trickled down Sanosuke's pale brow, and he began to shake.   
  
"Holy shit... what have I done?!"  
  
  
  
to be continued....   
  
  
  
  
Notes for part two:  
  
The Yakuza acts as a safe-haven for those who are outcasts. Members could be children that have been abandoned by their parents, kids that have dropped out of school or refugees from Korea or China. Yakuza offers not only companionship, but money, social status, and authority. There is no 'special test' one must perform to become a member, so it would have been rather simple for an orphan like Yahiko to become a member. However, it is expected for each member to show their superiors total obedience and respect.   
  
It's usual within the Yakuza for its members to tattoo themselves, the tattoo's acting as their clan's badge. The tattoo's are large and cover the whole body. Tattooing done by the Yakuza originates from Bakuto (gamblers). Tattooing in the Yakuza is a symbol of strength (a back tattoo could take over 100 hours to create). Tattooing in the Yakuza was a symbol of rebellion, that you are unwilling to accommodate yourself to the rules and norms of society; nowadays it merely illustrates your belonging to your clan.  
  
And for those of you who aren't in the know, 'Tadaima' means 'I'm home'. Yes, I understand that this takes place in America, and they SHOULD be speaking English, but both Yahiko and Kenshin are natives of Japan, so it wouldn't be all that unusual for them to slip into Japanese every now and then. ^_^   
  
  



	3. Part Three: Everyone Wants to be The Bat...

Title: Days to Remember  
Author: Mi-chan   
Rating: R  
Series: Rurouni Kenshin (AU, Modern-day)  
Pairings: Hmmm... read and find out. =D  
  
  
Part Three: Everyone Wants To Be The Battleship   
  
It was a such a simple game, when you stopped to think about it. You roll the dice, hop around the board, and buy up as much property as you possibly could. It was easy! Yahiko didn't quite understand why Shinomori Aoshi, of all people, would be losing so easily to one half his age. Not that it mattered; Yahiko was winning, and he couldn't complain. And besides, he was the Battleship.  
  
Aoshi frowned. "I wanted to be the Battleship."   
  
Yahiko laughed. "I called it first though. And first always wins over last."  
  
The dark man groaned. "You could have at least let me be the banker."  
  
The teen shook his head. "I called that too. Jeez, Aoshi, haven't you even played Monopoly before?" Yahiko said, scratching his head. Obviously not, seeing as how Aoshi was losing horribly. Yahiko had bought up all four railroads, both Broadway and Board Walk, and was already lining his pockets with all the cash that was flowing in from the various hotels he owned.  
  
"Have you ever played _fair_ before?" Aoshi mused, cocking his head to one side. "I saw how you slipped that $500 into your pile."  
  
Yahiko swallowed hard. _Ouch... he noticed. He's not going to... kill me or anything, is he?_  
  
"And," Aoshi pointed out, holding out the rule book. "Says here, when I land on Free Parking, _I'm_ supposed to get the money, not _you_ ."  
  
The boy cringed. Aoshi was right, of course. However... "Hey! But I bought Free Parking fair and square! 'Gas, Grass, or Ass, no one rides for free'!"  
  
"You idiot," Aoshi barked, whapping the boy in the back of the head. "This game is stupid anyway. I should have brought my Go board, then I--"  
  
A knock at the door sounded just then, making Yahiko leap ten feet into the air in shock. "Wow... jumpy, are we? Must be your guilty conscience," Aoshi grinned. "It's probably Himura...." the dark man shrugged his shoulders, reaching for the lock. "... Idiot probably forgot his key."  
  
Suddenly, the door came flying off his hinges as an eardrum-shattering explosion rang throughout the apartment. Debris flew everywhere, and luckily for Yahiko, Aoshi sensed the impending danger a split second before it occurred. Shielding the dark-haired boy with his body, Aoshi winced as the roof caved in, bringing the floor above down on top of them.   
  
Yahiko gasped. "Aoshi! Aoshi, are you okay?!" He shouted to the older man atop him, their noses barely touching. _Damn him_, the teen thought. _Kenshin knew something was going to happen... why didn't he stay?! Why did you abandon me, Kenshin?!_  
  
Aoshi opened his eyes. "Shh. Stay here--" he growled, lifting them both out of the rubble. "--And don't get in my way."  
  
"My, my... I'd heard you had balls of steel, Shinomori Aoshi," a sly voice said from behind the still lingering smoke. "But to survive the entire top floor landing on top of that pretty head of yours? Must be more than rocks rolling around in there."  
  
Aoshi hissed, "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Tsukiyoka Tsunan kept his back turned from the group, his long black hair draping over his dark face. "Tsunan," he replied, though somewhat muffled. "Tsukiyoka Tsunan. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shinomori."  
  
Aoshi heard a thump behind him, and when he looked back, Yahiko was out cold. "What the hell did you do to him, you bastard?!" Aoshi rumbled low in his throat, pulling forth his trusty Kodachis from his trench coat.  
  
Aoshi smiled his most genuine smile. He loved his Kodachis; there was nothing more thrilling to him than an old-fashioned fight. He hated guns, and never understood why Kenshin insisted on using such as a policeman. And this man didn't look like he was armed, so he felt no remorse in tearing him apart with his Kodachis.  
  
But, before he could take a step forward, Tsunan showed his face--covered with a gas mask. The man started a bit, his eyes going wide as the full reality of the situation settled in. Aoshi had lost from the very beginning. It wasn't smoke that blanketed the atmosphere of the room... it was gas.   
  
Before Aoshi could mutter a curse, he was out cold.  
  
* * *  
  
Midnight. She hated this time of night. Closing the restaurant at one in the morning sometimes really sucked; especially on Thursday nights, since happy hour lasted way too long for Misao's tastes. And the people were less than non-charming--they were downright dirty. She couldn't count the number of times one of those perverted old men grabbed her ass.  
  
Nearly nodding off at the bar, something went off inside her head. Something.... loud. As if the whole building was coming down around her. Blinking, she looked around. No, the restaurant was still in one piece... Silently, Misao started to question her own sanity.   
  
Then she blinked again. No... that wasn't some lack of sleep-induced, delirious figment of her imagination... Something really was wrong. Leaping over the bar, she threw the restaurant's keys to her fellow employee, Hannya. "Hannya! I need you to close the place for me tonight!"  
  
The man raised an eyebrow, yet he didn't need to ask what was wrong. He knew Misao all too well. Instead, he took the task without complaint, going back to settling a dispute between two drunks at the pool table.  
  
Misao winced, her head throbbing even more than usual. _Oh God, I know something happened to you... please, please, please! Be okay!  
  
Aoshi...!_  
  
* * *  
  
  
Black, cold, and painful. Those were the first words to run through Kenshin's mind as he lay awake in... a bed?!   
  
Sitting up suddenly, and regretting his actions the moment his head began to swell, Kenshin cursed. "Shit! What happened?" Looking around, he had to squint to see in the dark. He could barely make out a figure at the window, sipping away at a beer.  
  
Rubbing his forehead, the memories of tonight raced through his head. "Zanza..." he winced, biting back a gasp of pain as his stomach burned fiercely.   
  
"You're awake," the figure at the window said, setting down his beer with utmost care on the nightstand. "Yeah... you're pretty beat up. Sorry about that."  
  
Kenshin startled as he realized the owner of the voice was none of than Sagara Sanosuke, the same freelancer who had placed him in this condition. His eyes narrowed, and he managed the best fighting stance he could, even being bed ridden as he was now. His fists clenched the sheets, his knuckles turning just as white to match the bedding.  
  
Sanosuke took note of the other's discomfort, and waved his hands defensively through the air. "Whoa, whoa... chill out. I admit it now, I've made a mistake."  
  
Kenshin seemed to relax a bit, but his distrusting eyes watched Sanosuke like a hawk. "I understand why you're angry... hell, I would be too. But... after I started rummaging through your shit, I found your tattoos...."  
  
It just now occurred to Kenshin that he was missing said shirt. He looked down, only to see himself bandaged along the waist. For immobilization, he guessed... he had taken a rather nasty blow to the stomach. He'd probably be pissing blood for a week.  
  
"And what about my tattoos?" Kenshin snapped. He didn't much like talking about this particular topic.  
  
"You only have twenty-five rings on each arm... totaling fifty altogether," he smiled rather smugly, as if being able to add were that big of an accomplishment.   
  
"Yeah? So?"  
  
"Soooooo," the freelancer began, plopping himself down in a rather puffy chair. "When Shishio told me you had killed Sagara-sensei, he said that it was your 51st kill. I may be just some silly old, know-nothing freelancer, but I can put two and two together."  
  
"Ah," Kenshin thought aloud, lowering his eyes to the silken sheets. "You believe me, then, when I say I wasn't the one who killed this Sagara person?"  
  
"Not at all," Sanosuke grunted, massaging a few kinks out of his shoulder. "For all I know, you could have just skipped a tattoo. Miscounted, or something. But whatever. I didn't plan on killing you, anyway. Besides... I think you're kind of cute." Sanosuke winked as he sexily whispered that last part.  
  
Kenshin sweat-dropped, a slight blush creeping up on him. He decided to busy himself with examining the extent of his wounds. "Well, that sure is comforting..." he mused sarcastically.  
  
Sanosuke grinned again. "Look... I realized tonight that something was up. I could see it in your eyes. I knew you weren't lying... I just didn't pay attention until I noticed your tattoos. And besides, I know to take everything Shishio says with a grain of salt."  
  
_There's more to this guy then meets the eye_, Kenshin pondered. _I wonder...._ Jumping out of the bed suddenly, and rising a yelp of surprise out of Sanosuke, Kenshin gasped. "Yahiko! Shit, I promised him I'd help him study... I need to go--" he said frantically, looking for his hat.  
  
"Hooooo, no you don't," Sanosuke said, grasping Kenshin by the arm. "It's too late for that. Tsunan's flight left two hours ago. They're already on their way to Japan."  
  
Kenshin gaped. "He..._ what?!_"  
  
* * *  
  
  
_Damn you, Himura!_ Misao mentally cursed as she took off for Kenshin's apartment. _ I know damn well you're up to something, you bastard! How dare you bring Aoshi into this! When... when... when you know I care for him so much!_  
  
Misao turned the corner sharply, using a lamppost to propel herself in a perfect ninety degree angle down the street to Kenshin's apartment. She paused suddenly, taken by surprise as she took note of the large cloud of smoke coming from the building. She could hear the distant wail of ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars.   
  
_Shit... shit... shit!_ Her eyes welded with tears. "I knew it... Himura, you idiot!"  
  
Fighting her way past spectators, she took off inside the building.  
  
"Miss! Miss, don't go in there, the building's about ready to--" an onlooker called out to her, but his cried fell on deaf ears. Only one thing was on Misao's mind: FIND AOSHI.  
  
She leapt over the fire blocking the stairs, taking off for Kenshin's floor. "Aoshi's here," she murmured. "I just _know_ he's here...!"  
  
By the time she reached the room, which was now in shambles, she was so out of breath and dizzy from the smoke that she gagged. The demolished ceiling allowed the midnight drizzle to rain down on the rubble. Panicking, Misao sifted through the debris, her heart racing.   
  
_He's here... he's here!_ Her search became more frantic. Stumbling over something cold and wet laying on the floor, Misao cursed herself. Hearing a low grunt from the pile of unrecognizable clothing, Misao sighed in relief. "Aoshi! Aoshi, are you okay? Can you hear me?"  
  
Turning the dark man over on his back, he winced. Whatever that gas was... he couldn't move. He could barely keep his eyes open. "Mi... Misao..."  
  
"You--" Misao stammered, tears in her eyes. "--You asshole! Don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"  
  
"Misao..." He choked, cringing his nose as he strained to move a hand to cup Misao's flushed face. "I didn't want you... involved. You need to go home... right now!"  
  
The girl narrowed her eyes and glared. "You... idiot! Aoshi, don't you get it? I-I care for you too much to let you do this shit by yourself. You need to _stop_--"  
  
Aoshi gently hushed her with a finger to the mouth. "Shh. Misao... My... my work is dirty. Do you think I want to see you end up like me?"  
  
Cradling the man's head to her chest, she held him tight, letting her long-held back tears flow freely onto his face. "I don't care... I don't care.... _I don't care_," she whispered. "You need to stop... Aoshi, this needs to _stop_...."  
  
Utilizing the last of his strength, Aoshi lifted his arms, which felt like giant slabs of steel, to wrap around her trembling form. He held her tight, rubbing his chin across the top of her head. "Misao...."  
  
The firefighters could barely rescue the two from the burning blaze before the building collapsed on itself.   
  
* * *  
  
Outside, Aoshi fought off the paramedics, stating that he'd throw himself off the Brooklyn Bridge before he'd let them tend to his wounds. Silently, as Misao and Aoshi watched the firefighters attempt to put out the smoldering blaze from where they sat on the street corner, the girl reached a hand out for Aoshi's.  
  
Usually, Aoshi would go cold fish and turn away whenever Misao would physically express her concern. He really didn't want the girl involved... Looking into her eyes, he sighed. Maybe he _would_ give his life of fighting up. Yes... he could try to, at least.  
  
For Misao, he would try.  
  
* * *  
  
  
Kaoru Kamiya cursed bad enough to make a sailor blush. "Who the _ hell_--" she began, reaching for the ringing phone. Breathing a disgruntled "Hello" into the receiver, she was surprised to hear the frantic words of her friend on the other line.  
  
"Kaoru! Oh, Kaoru, sorry to wake you--" Takani Megumi began, her voice strong yet threatening to break. "There's been an explosion at Ken's apartment. You need to head down there immediately!"  
  
Kaoru turned as pale as a ghost. "What... did you say?"  
  
"Hurry, just head down there! The police said Ken wasn't home at the time, but Shinomori Aoshi was there and filled them all in--But there's more to it than just that!"  
  
"What is it?!" Kaoru leapt out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a loose sweatshirt   
  
Megumi voice went dark. "Someone kidnapped Yahiko."  
  
Kaoru nearly dropped the phone, tripping over the phone cord in the process. "What?!" she squealed, her hands beginning to shake. Panic raced through every bone and vein in her body.  
  
"What about you, Megumi?"  
  
"I was on call tonight," Megumi said, her breathing returning to normal once more. "And I got called in after the explosion. But don't worry about me right now. I know Ken's alright... but you need to make sure!"  
  
"But Megumi--"  
  
"You stupid girl!" Megumi shouted through the receiver. "Go _now_ , and find your brother!"  
  
* * *  
  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Sanosuke stopped at the security check. The airport was surprisingly busy this time of night. Sanosuke handed the attendant his suitcase, and gave Kenshin a questioning look. "You're going to have to face a lot more than just Shishio when we get over there."  
  
"I know, Sanosuke. I'm all too well aware of that, that I am..." Kenshin sighed deeply... he wouldn't be able to carry any of his weapons onto the flight. So, he was defenseless. He was shocked there was even room left for the both of them on this flight. Sanosuke would have left earlier, he said, but he knew Kenshin would have followed anyway once he discovered Yahiko missing. He just hoped no one else decided to follow. So much was riding on this... and there were still so many questions...   
  
Aboard the plane, Kenshin's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell are you helping me, anyway?"  
  
"Hey," Sanosuke spat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just don't like being lied to by bastards like Shishio. And don't think of it as a favor. If you like, think of it as payback for beating you shitless."  
  
Kenshin sweat-dropped. "Yes, yes... but just remember. I don't trust you. And until I have Yahiko back in one piece, I'm going to be watching you like a hen guarding her eggs."  
  
Sanosuke grumbled at that statement. "You aren't going to start making chicken jokes about my hair now like everyone else, are you?"  
  
Kenshin sweat-dropped again, his eyes smiling. "Oro?"  
  
"Nevermind."  
  
* * *  
  
  
"No, I'm fine," the dashingly handsome man said to the flight attendant as she tried to force a drink on him. He ran slender fingers through his midnight, wispy mop of hair, appearing relaxed. But to the trained eye, he was as alert as a watch dog.  
  
Searching rather casually through the occupants of the plane, the Waka-gashira gasped, his eyes widening as he spotted a certain scarred redhead. _Oh... I see Zanza was incapable of killing him, after all..._  
  
Soujiro rested his chin in his hand. _Heh... Shishio-oyabun will be pleased._  
  
  
  
to be continued...  
  
  
  
  
Notes for part three:  
  
The Clan-Yakuza operates as a hierarchy, and there are different names given to each of it's members depending on status. I'll give you just a few:  
  
Oyabun=Father (this would be Shishio, the head of the Shishio Clan)  
Waka-gashira=Children of the leader (the middleman, the one who sees that the Oyabun's orders have been followed--basically his right-hand man. This would be Smiley--eer, Soujiro, of course. ^_^)  
  
  



	4. Part Four: His Most Deceptive Smile

Title: Days to Remember  
Author: Mi-chan  
Rating: R  
Series: Rurouni Kenshin (AU, Modern day)  
Pairings: Read and find out. =D  
Special Note: I realized halfway through this that I was calling Katsu, Sano's childhood friend from the Sekihoutai, by his pen-name. There's nothing wrong with that, just be forewarned that Tsunan and Katsu *are* the same person, and that I was just too lazy to go back and change it.  
  
  
Part Four: His Most Deceptive Smile  
  
"You silly girl," Saitou said, taking another hit off his cigarette. "Do you honestly think you'll find him in such a big place as Kyoto?"  
  
Kamiya Kaoru fumed. Who did Saitou think he was, anyway? Of course she'd find Kenshin... there was no doubt in her mind. The hardest part of all this so far was requesting a week off from work so that she could track her troublesome brother down. That in itself was a battle.   
  
It was a good thing she ran into Aoshi and Misao at the smoldering building that once housed her brother and Yahiko. The two filled Kaoru in as much as they could. Aoshi, Kaoru could tell, wasn't so sure how much he should let slip about Kenshin and his past. Kaoru reassured the man that even though she knew next to nothing about Kenshin's Yakuza days, she just flat out didn't care. She could deal with that when it became an issue. Right now, the most important thing was making sure Yahiko and Kenshin, the two most important people in her life, were okay.  
  
And while it did make her a bit jealous knowing Aoshi knew more about it all than she did, Kaoru felt that there wasn't much time left. Misao and Aoshi knew they wouldn't be able to convince the girl not to tag along... So Aoshi took it upon himself to tell her whatever was necessary so that she might just survive this disaster.  
  
All signs, Aoshi had said, led to Kyoto; the place where all of this started. The same place where Kenshin worked for the Shishio Clan as their top assassin. After giving the raccoon girl all the details, he made it clear that even though he felt bad for the current situation and his inability to protect Yahiko, he would not become involved. Kaoru noted the stern expression Misao gave her, as the younger girl's iron grip on Aoshi's hand never wavered.  
  
Throwing her suitcase into the trunk of the taxi, Kaoru shook a fist. "Are you going to try and stop me, Mr. Satou? Or are you actually, just this once, going to show that you give a damn and _help_?"  
  
Saitou rubbed his temples. He had every intention of going after Himura from the beginning... he just wasn't happy with having such a ... squealing, persistent, pig-headed raccoon of a girl follow him along in the process. _Well_, he figured. _ I can't stop her. She's going to go either way... might as well make sure she doesn't get into trouble._  
  
"You know," Saitou informed, taking her by the arm and opening the taxi door for her. "Kyoto is going to be a very dangerous place for us."  
  
"I don't care," Kaoru said, on the verge of tears. "I'm going to track down Kenshin and beat him over the head with a broom!" The girl watched as Saitou followed her into the taxi. "I'm going to need you to hold him down for me, though. He's so... squirrely sometimes!"  
  
Saitou flashed the girl a crooked grin and told the destination to the driver. Already, he could feel the dull pounding in his forehead.  
  
This was going to be a long trip.  
  
* * *  
  
  
Settling into his apartment, Sanosuke smiled at the redhead. "So... how does it feel to be back in Kyoto, after all this time?"  
  
Kenshin's gaze never wandered from the window. Stepping out onto the balcony, Kenshin took a deep whiff of the mid-afternoon air. A few streetlights flickered on in the great city below, preparing itself for the darkness of night that was upon them. Kenshin sighed. "It's been a long time... I never thought I'd ever come back here, that I did not."  
  
Sanosuke patted the small man on the back. "Look, you can go stay at a hotel if you absolutely want to."  
  
Kenshin shook his head. "You said no one knows your true name here..." the redhead began, setting his hat down on the low coffee table. "... And that no one knows you live here. It would be best for me to keep a low profile, that it would.  
  
"And besides, if you are up to no good, I want to be there to take you down."  
  
The freelancer sighed, defeated. "I see you'll never trust me, ne?"  
  
"Well, let's see," Kenshin began, counting off on his fingers. "You attacked me, accused me of murdering some guy by the name of Sagara, and your best friend kidnapped my foster son, that he did." He said the last part rather bitterly, placing his hands on his waist. His accusing glare made Sanosuke shrink back a bit.   
  
"Yeah... but I also offered to help you get him back," Sanosuke said. "And believe me... I'm just as pissed at Shishio as you are. You may not know it, but concerning my revenge... I'm back to square one."  
  
The two stood silent a moment, looking into each other's eyes. Years of training on both parts earned them the ability to sense even the most subtle hint of dishonesty in their opponent. It also earned them the ability to sense their opponents weakness. And Sanosuke, Kenshin mused, didn't seem to have any. And if one were to ask Sanosuke about Kenshin, he would say the same. Both were very strong fighters, at least on the outside. Kenshin rubbed his head sluggishly. "Oi... I never could get the hang of travel. Too much jet lag, that there is."  
  
The taller man smiled. "Ah. I'm about to nod off here myself."  
  
Kenshin made himself a make-shift bed against the wall, placing a blanket down on the floor. He sat, hunched over his crossed legs, his head hanging just a bit. It was something he got rather accustomed to when he was a child; being homeless and without a warm bed to cuddle up in, he often times found himself falling asleep sitting up. _ Old habits die hard, that they do_, Kenshin mused.   
  
"Are you sure you want to sleep there?" Sanosuke smoothed, his eyes sparkling.  
  
"Oro?" Kenshin blinked. "As long as you don't mind. I don't need a bed, just a wall to lean against, that I do."  
  
"Are you sure? I could let you share mine."  
  
Kenshin made a noise that could only be described as a squeak, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. "O...ro?"  
  
"Nevermind," Sanosuke shook his head, taking off for his room. "But if you get cold... let me know."  
  
Kenshin watched the taller one disappear into his quarters. _What a strange guy_, he thought. _And yet... I was... I was going say 'yes'._  
  
The redhead, out of humiliation, slapped himself silly. _What are you thinking, Kenshin?! You're a guy... and he's a guy. You're not like that... _  
  
_....are you?_  
  
Kenshin yawned. It was probably just the jet-lag effecting his brainwaves, or something, he mused. Probably nothing to worry about. Finding another guy attractive? Why, sure, he'd thought that way before about other men. But about Sanosuke? Definitely some sleep-deprivation issues going on there.  
  
Happy with that excuse, he fell asleep. They would start looking for Yahiko tomorrow... and they would take their fight straight to the heart of it all... to Makoto Shishio himself.  
  
And Kenshin could bury the ghosts of his past once and for all.  
  
* * *  
  
  
Myoujin Yahiko finally come around, disorientation dulling his senses. The last thing he remembered was Aoshi facing off against that strange guy at the door--  
  
"Ah. I see you've finally come around," Tsunan said. "I'm surprised, actually. I thought you'd be out much longer than that, given the effects the gas should have had on one your height and weight ..."  
  
It took a moment for Yahiko to realize he was captured, tied up, and thrown in some corner of a dank and dreary room. Yahiko snarled. "What the fuck is going on? Who are you?!"  
  
"I've already told you my name. And as to what's going on..." Tsunan smugly said. "Everything."  
  
The dark-haired boy stammered, "Ne? What do you mean? Where's Aoshi?"  
  
"Mr. Shinomori is back in America," Tsunan said. He felt somewhat guilty for not waiting for Sanosuke; never mind that before they embarked on this mission, they both agreed to get their jobs done and not worry about each other. Tsunan's job was to capture the kid and bring him to Shishio, which is exactly what he did. "You're in Kyoto now, brat."  
  
_Sano...._ Tsunan wondered. _Where are you_?  
  
He knew he had to give it time; Sano enjoyed being late. He said it kept everyone on their toes. Tsunan knew that at any moment, that chicken-headed lamebrain would walk through those doors, totting Himura Kenshin along in a body bag and making some bad comment about bad American food and their lack of hospitality. But the whole fight worried him as it was... True, Sagara Sanosuke was a formidable fighter. But when paired up against a legend like Himura Kenshin? He had to admit, he had his doubts. All he could do now was believe in Sanosuke with every fiber of his being.  
  
"But Mr. Shinomori should be the least of your concerns," the dark one murmured. "Shishio-sama's got plans for you, and unless you act accordingly, he will kill you."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Yahiko spat. "I know. I've been involved with this Yakuza shit before."  
  
"Good. Then I don't have to explain anything," Tsunan headed for the door, but was somewhat startled to see that Seta Soujiro was standing there the whole time.  
  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Tsukiyoka," the smiling one said, bowing slightly. "How was your trip?"  
  
"Spare me the niceties, 'Waka-gashira'," Tsunan said, purposefully stressing the last word in a mocking fashion. "I brought the boy. And Sano's on his way with Himura."  
  
"Yes. So I've seen," Soujiro said, amused by the darker man's distrust. "And as soon as he gets here, Shishio-oyabun would like to have a few words with you."   
  
Tsunan's eyes narrowed, and he grit his teeth. He really didn't like Soujiro, not in the least. The kid was too... happy for his tastes. He knew the kid was hiding something... some sort of hidden agenda. But, damn it all, Tsunan just couldn't read the boy well enough to figure out just what it was that made him so uneasy. It was as if there was nothing in that head of his, as if he were some kind of spiritless shell...  
  
"Fine. But tell Shishio-'oyabun' that as soon as Sano returns, he's got our attention for no more than an hour. After that, Sano and I are gone."  
  
Soujiro cocked his head to one side, his eternally shining smile never wavering. "Yes sir!"  
  
* * *  
  
  
After Soujiro took off to rendezvous with Shishio, Tsunan turned towards Yahiko and, in the barest of whispers, said: "Look... I know that... whatever they have planned for you won't be all that bad. They probably want to recruit you. So take whatever they give you graciously, and you might live."  
  
Yahiko's nostrils flared in anger. "Why? Why are you doing this? What have you and this 'Sano' guy got against Kenshin?"  
  
Tsunan looked thoughtful for a moment, then clenched his fists. "Himura Kenshin took someone very important away from Sano and I fifteen years ago. Sagara-sensei's spirit cries out for revenge."  
  
"Sagara... sensei?" the kid though aloud. "A teacher of yours?"  
  
"Yes. The man who took Sano and I under his wing and accepted us for what we were."  
  
Casting his eyes to the ground, Yahiko thought a moment. Kenshin... a murderer? He knew that his foster father had a dark past... hell, even he himself did. He knew full well how people were capable of change, yet he never much wondered about Kenshin's past all that much before... but a murderer? He just couldn't see Kenshin doing anything like that.  
  
"And... you know that Kenshin did it? You know for a fact that he murdered your teacher?"  
  
Tsunan flinched, as if socked in the face. He bit his bottom lip, contemplating his response. "Yes. Sano and I... are certain it was him."  
  
Yahiko saw the tinge of uncertainty in the man's eyes, and 'hmmmed' thoughtfully. Maybe there was something salvageable in these two freelancers... he would have to think about it a bit, though.  
  
Right now, though, he just wanted to get that damn silly-assed grin of Soujiro's out of his mind. It was just too damn... creepy.  
  
* * *  
  
  
Seta Soujiro sighed contently as he walked down the long, darkened hallway, stopping just short of Shishio's quarters. Adjusting his blazer, he had to admit; jetlag was really getting to him. But he knew there was an incredible amount of work still ahead of him. He couldn't put it off for such trivial things as sleep. Besides, he wanted nothing more than to look good in the eyes of his Oyabun. He knew that hard work would some day earn him the love and respect he so desired.  
  
"You can come in now, Soujiro," Shishio deadpanned, rather impatiently.   
  
Soujiro snapped out of his fantasy, a little ashamed for lingering. "Good afternoon, Shishio-oyabun. How are you today?"  
  
"Good, good," the bandaged man said behind his laptop, clicking and typing away at Soujiro knew not what. "And your trip?"  
  
"It was wonderful! You know what they say, 'America, the beautiful'," Soujiro smiled wider, his eyes matching as he almost took off into the song. "Oh! You should have been there, Shishio-oyabun, they have the most wonderful food! And the Statue of Liberty, it--"  
  
"And Sanosuke and the Battousai?"  
  
The genki one blinked, then laughed sheepishly as he realized he was getting off track. "Oi... I followed Mr. Sagara the entire time. He took along his friend, Mr. Tsuk--"  
  
"Tsukiyoka Tsunan," Shishio rushed, waving a hand passively. "Right, right. Did you see the Battousai, though?"  
  
Soujiro frowned at the word. _Battousai... such a glorious title_, he thought, but one he could never be skilled enough to possess. _"Sword-wielding man slayer"..._ "Yes, yes, I saw him. Mr. Sagara brought him back alive."  
  
At that, Shishio closed his laptop, reclining back in his chair. His eyes shone a hellish red, the warm glow from the fireplace reflecting off of them, as if igniting tiny blazes inside his bandaged head. Resting his chin on his hand, he chuckled.   
  
Soujiro couldn't help but shudder at the image before him; Shishio noticed the visual tremors running through the boy's body, even though Soujiro's mask never faultered. He loved having that effect on the boy; Soujiro owed him respect, that they both knew. The Oyabun had been a sort of foster father to the boy for quite some years. And while Soujiro knew it wasn't the type of father-son relationship he wanted deep down, his carefree, spiritless mentality let him sleep peacefully at night knowing he owed Shishio his utmost honor and respect.  
  
Shishio smiled a smile identical to Soujiro's. "Good. I can't wait to see them."  
  
* * *  
  
  
The hallway, for lack of a better description, was dark. At least, Soujiro thought, it was much better than being stuck outside. Their hideout, an old classic-style Japanese dojo atop Mount Hiei, shook with tremors as the storm dragged on outside.   
  
He hated rain.  
  
The hallway, for some odd reason, was more reassuring than his own warm bed at the moment. At least out here, he could keep watch. At least out here, he could hear every voice and whisper coming from Shishio's room.   
  
The boy sat outside his own room down the hall, hugging his knees. Soujiro listened carefully, his ears perking up when he recognized a female voice emanating through the paper-thin walls. "Shishio, he's just a child, for Christ's sake. You can't expect him to--"  
  
"Yumi," Shishio smoothed. "Soujiro is my right-hand man. And besides, disloyalty and insolence aren't in his contract. He's not the issue here."  
  
Soujiro's mouth gaped. They were talking about him?! Soujiro, for a split instant, let his smile slip into an all-out gape of pure shock. He hadn't done anything... nothing Shishio knew about, anyway. But Yumi... Yumi knew him better than most. Maybe Yumi was catching something Shishio couldn't...?  
  
"You're not around him all day like I am," Yumi protested. Soujiro could hear the soft padding of her footsteps through the wall. Her voice, he could tell, was nearing the door. "That boy is slipping, Shishio. And, if you hold onto him too tight, he's going to break like the fragile piece of glass that he is.  
  
"But," she continued, her voice solemn. "Don't you _dare_ drop him, either."  
  
Silence. The sound of the falling rain pounding in Soujiro's ears, making the silence overwhelming. Lowering his eyelids gently, a small tremor ran through his body. He fought off his feelings once again, shutting them up in the tiny safekeeping box known as his mind. He couldn't rely on his emotions anymore; they were wild, going out of control. It was best just to shrug it off and smile, and no one, not even Shishio, would be any the wiser.  
  
But Yumi... Yumi was more observant than Soujiro thought.  
  
_I didn't want to..._ The words were hot, and painful, like wildfire spreading throughout his entire nervous system. He tried to shut them up, but they came anyway... He silently damned his sucky human emotions to the deepest, darkest depths of Hell where they belonged.  
  
_I didn't want to... to .... didn't.... Oh, God, Shishio-oyabun.... why... why..._  
  
"What are you doing out in the hallway?" Yumi snapped, staring accusingly at Soujiro on the floor. "Are you drunk or something?"  
  
"Ara... araaa?" He murmured innocently, his eyes squinting.   
  
Yumi raised an eyebrow. "Go to bed, boy. I don't care if you do have jetlag--it's way past your bed time."  
  
Soujiro got up, brushed himself off, and complied. Wishing Yumi goodnight, he shut the door behind him gently. Collapsing onto his bed, he curled up with his pillow, his eyes shut so hard he gave himself a migrane.  
  
_"I didn't want to kill anyone, Shishio-oyabun..."_  
  
  
  
to be continued...  
  
  
  
  



	5. Part Five: Remembrance

Title: Days to Remember  
Author: Mi-chan  
Rating: R  
Series: Rurouni Kenshin (AU, Modern day)  
Pairings: Read and find out. =D  
Special Note: I realized halfway through this that I was calling Katsu, Sano's childhood friend from the Sekihoutai, by his pen-name. There's nothing wrong with that, just be forewarned that Tsunan and Katsu *are* the same person, and that I was just too lazy to go back and change it (HEH--the joys of being a fanfic writer ^^).  
  
  
Part Five: Remembrance  
  
Himura Kenshin adjusted his Fedora atop his red head. He realized he shouldn't be wearing his hat in doors, but he couldn't help himself--not since Sagara Sanosuke had started taking a liking to it. He needed to keep it under lock and key as it was, for fear that the thief might strike again. He'd already had to wrestle the larger man for it twice today.  
  
Kenshin shook his head, taking another sip of his O-cha. If they were going to leave... they should've done it by now. Standing up and adjusting his jacket, Kenshin exhaled slowly. "We should get going. We don't have time to spare. I'm sure Shishio's waiting for your return, that he is."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure the bastard is," Sano murmured. "Why are you in such a hurry, anyway? He's going to kill you, you know."  
  
Kenshin sighed thoughtfully, albeit a bit frustratingly. Did Sanosuke not have a heart? "Yahiko... I'm going after Yahiko. Whether or not I am in danger is not the issue here, that it is not." Grasping the handle to one of his daggers, his eyes narrowed dangerously.   
  
Sanosuke felt he could cut the tension surrounding his companion with a knife. "Oi... Kenshin... don't get yourself worked up. They won't kill the kid. And besides, Tsunan's with him, and I know for a fact that he won't let Shishio lay a hand on him."  
  
"You two underestimate Shishio, that you do," the redhead said, lowering his gaze to the floor. "Do you think Mr. Tsunan will stand a chance against Shishio, if he were by chance to do something to Yahiko?"  
  
Sanosuke blinked. He'd seen Shishio... with his well-cooked exterior. True, the man had an air about him that cried out '_Don't fuck with me_ ', but in all honesty, his bandaged body rose a laugh out of Sanosuke every time he thought about it. _Freak tanning bed accident, probably..._ Sanosuke mentally snickered.  
  
"Sano... I spent a great deal of time around him, that I did," Kenshin turned towards Sanosuke. The cop didn't think the two knew the extent of Shishio's abilities... nor the abilities of his henchmen. Sometimes, his henchmen were even worse. But the only one, Kenshin knew, that they really needed to keep an eye on was the young boy Shishio had taken in when Kenshin left.   
  
_To be that young and yet... threatening enough to invoke pain and fear into those you accepted as apart of your 'clan'. We were so young and stupid back then... how were we to know...?_  
  
"And I can tell you this... that if I think anyone, even you or your friend, Mr. Tsunan, are in danger," Kenshin began, his face becoming sterner than Sanosuke had ever seen it. "Then I'm going to make you leave, that I will."  
  
Sanosuke smiled his most genuine smile. "Hah. You selfish bastard. You really don't expect me to sit back and watch as you get to have all the fun, do you?"   
  
"No," Kenshin pressed, moving to close the distance between him and Sanosuke. "That I do not. But I do expect that, when the time comes, you will leave Shishio to me."  
  
The freelancer raised his chin a bit, the cocky grin plastered to his face never dithering. "You want to be the one to kill him, don't you?"  
  
"No," the cop snapped. "Killing doesn't solve anything. Only breeds more hate, that it does. I have no desire to murder Shishio only to have one of his men rise up and take his place." _It would be a never-ending cycle, that it would_, Kenshin thought. _And besides... _  
  
"And besides, I promised someone a long time ago that I would never kill again," he whispered. "It would be disgraceful to her memory, that it would. And it is for her that I fight Shishio."  
  
Sanosuke knew not whom this 'her' was that Kenshin spoke of, and he was a little reluctant to ask. He'd always felt that sense of loss within the man; there was no mistaking it, for Sanosuke knew the feeling all too well himself. And it wasn't just his intuition about these things; that scar on Kenshin's left cheek was keeping a secret that obviously was tearing the restless cop apart. Sanosuke felt the urge to reach out and touch it... to actually see if he could feel some of said pain.  
  
"Fair enough," Sanosuke shrugged his shoulders. "But if it looks like you're losing, I'm stepping in to save your scrawny ass."  
  
Kenshin nodded; he knew better than to break the spirits of a warrior.  
  
"Ne, Kenshin," the freelancer questioned. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"  
  
"No."  
  
"How'd you get that mean-looking scar on your face?"   
  
The look of confusion on Kenshin's face, as if he had forgotten the scar existed, made Sanosuke laugh. "Oro?" Kenshin uttered, then his eyes widened. "Oh... my scar....."  
  
He went quiet then, trying to think of the best possible response. Something like this was hard to put into words, and yet... When he looked into Sanosuke's eyes, he saw no mockery; only sincere concern. He couldn't believe that only a day ago this same man wanted revenge. How fast things can change...  
  
"I...," Kenshin began, the words becoming caught in his throat. "Let's just say... it's my constant reminder of all the sins I have committed in the past."  
  
Sanosuke cocked his head to one side; his eyes half-closed in thought. Maybe someday he could get the answer from this man; someday, if Shishio didn't kill them first. Kenshin felt a blush creep up on his face at the attention. _Is he so afraid to let go of something so dark and sad... that he won't allow himself to feel?_ Sanosuke wondered, reaching a hand out for Kenshin's cheek.  
  
Kenshin inhaled deeply at the touch; no one had touched him there since she was alive. His lips pursed slightly, his skin tingly as tiny prickles of pleasure danced through his body. Why did it feel so good, this touch? Kenshin didn't know or didn't care, really; and he was too caught up in the feeling to wonder when it would stop, and they'd have to go fight Shishio.  
  
"You're afraid," the freelancer breathed. Kenshin didn't dare reply; his mind was racing too fast for coherent speech to be fathomable. Instead, he leaned into the touch, surrendering. It felt so good... and yet, a part deep down inside screamed at him not to let this continue any further.  
  
"I know what it's like," Sanosuke said, his nose barely touching Kenshin's forehead. "Ever since Sagara-sensei died... "  
  
Swallowing hard, as if to un-cloud his foggy mind, Kenshin spoke, "What happened to him, Sano?"  
  
The memory was bitter, but Sanosuke's honor and respect for Sagara was too strong for him to keep it secret. "He was murdered, as you know... I was eight at the time. We were a small group of freelancers working for Shishio; the one's who did all his dirty work at first. But later on, he tipped the police off about our... 'activities'," he began, his voice trembling a bit. He cleared his throat, then continued. "In the end, we were betrayed. We spent months out-running the police... until the government hired Shishio and his clan under the table in a deal to kill off our leader, Sagara Souzo."  
  
Kenshin could feel the tears in his voice. Lifting a slender hand to brush his fingers against Sanosuke's olive-colored skin, he smiled softly. "And you thought... I was the one who Shishio sent to kill him, that you did."  
  
"To be honest," Sanosuke bit his bottom lip. "I don't know what to think anymore. All I know is... I like touching you."  
  
That was enough to drive Kenshin mad, and Sanosuke knew it. He hadn't been trying to seduce the cop or anything... he just... felt; he felt very, very attracted to this man. The silky red hair, the eyes that shone bright amethyst, the hard outer exterior that hid so many secrets... The man was a total knockout.   
  
Lowering his lips to Kenshin's, Sanosuke was a bit surprised when the redhead accepted graciously and kissed him back. Sanosuke responded accordingly, pulling the shorter man to him, molding their bodies together perfectly. He could feel Kenshin's heart beating through the fabric of his clothing.   
  
Kenshin whispered through the kiss, "Sano... stop..."  
  
Sanosuke ran his hands down Kenshin's back, rising another shiver out of the cop. "I'm not going to bite you, Kenshin--" the freelancer breathed into his ear, pausing to run his tongue along the lobe. He grinned evilly, finishing that thought: "--Unless you want me to, that is."   
  
"Sano... it's just...," he began, his mind screaming at him. They were wrong... this was wrong! "I can't--"  
  
Sano pulled away gently, clasping Kenshin's hands with his own. "Kenshin... I won't hurt you," he began, his cheeks becoming flush with anxiety. His voice trembled, a clear sign of his nervousness. "When I first laid eyes on you, despite my thirst for revenge," he said shakily. "I though you were the hottest, sexiest thing I had ever seen."  
  
"B-but Sano--" Kenshin gulped, his throat suddenly dry. "I'm a _guy_ --"  
  
"Yeah? So? And you're gay, obviously."  
  
Kenshin flinched, taken aback. "What, you don't believe me?" Sano purred, snaking a hand down to cup the cop between the legs. He caressed that sensitive area slowly, tightening and loosening his grip until he had Kenshin shaking with ecstasy. Kenshin pushed himself forward into the touch, clasping his hands around Sanosuke's neck for support.   
  
He could do nothing but feel... and oh _God_, what he felt... "S-sano," Kenshin's hot breath blew into his companion's ear. "I d-don't think I..."  
  
The freelancer stopped suddenly, running his hand up Kenshin's torso to cup his chin. Kenshin's cheeks were flushed bright crimson, a little stream of sweat trickling down his forehead. Sanosuke brushed the sweat away with a quick flick of his tongue, sending the panting man into a fit of pleasured gasps once more. Damn, he's so hot...   
  
Sanosuke pulled away reluctantly. "It's all right, Kenshin. We don't have to do anything." He knew that look Kenshin was giving him, through those half-lidded eyes... that look of utter and total confusion, clouded by desire and passion Kenshin never thought possible. Kenshin obviously had never even contemplated the idea of two men kissing before, let alone being intimate. Sanosuke had been there once himself, back in his earlier days as a pre-teen. He never liked going with the flow of everyone else at school. All his childhood buddies had taken a liking to girls, when he had started taking a liking to them instead. The only one who had ever fully understood him was Tsunan...   
  
"Besides... Tsunan," Sanosuke said, reaching for his black trench coat. "Shall we go save him and Yahiko and kick some mummified ass?"  
  
Kenshin adjusted himself, regained his composure, and smiled despite himself. "Y-yes, that we shall."  
  
* * *  
  
  
Yahiko sighed. Being held captive was so boring! And here he thought they'd be prying secret information about Kenshin outta him via Chinese water torture or something. _Ah, well..._ he thought sluggishly, stifling a yawn. _Never question a good thing._  
  
He couldn't help but wonder, though... what exactly did this Shishio guy want with Kenshin? Yahiko knew all too well what the Yakuza were capable of, having fallen into that pit in the past. He didn't quite understand... well, he knew that Kenshin had a shady past. But a _Yakuza_? Kenshin used to be one of them?  
  
Was it that hard to believe, though? Not really... he saw how Kenshin fought, and what the cop was capable of. Beneath that gentle, goofy exterior was a man who could tear you in two with merely a piercing glare. Yahiko had seen it a couple times... once when he was captured by the Yakuza and Kenshin saved him. The other time was when he refused to do his homework. He shuddered thinking about it; he had never got on Kenshin's bad side from thereon out.  
  
And now... things were great, despite the fact that he was captured. Kenshin was a great foster father; hell, he put a roof over Yahiko's head and for that the teen was eternally grateful. Kenshin had never once demanded Yahiko call him 'Dad', nor had he expected Yahiko to participate in any awkward 'father-son' activities. Kenshin was just... cool. He gave Yahiko what he desired most: privacy.  
  
Of course, Yahiko needed it. It wasn't until he met Yutarou that he started feeling things within himself he never thought imaginable: love for another male. He wasn't sure if Kenshin would understand or not, didn't really care either, it was just the principle of it all. He had his privacy and he and Yutarou could go about their business and Yahiko didn't have to explain a thing.   
  
"Yutarou," Yahiko whispered, fidgeting against his restraints. Whoever tied him up sure did a damn good job of it... however, for an ex-pickpocket, busting loose was something Yahiko could probably do in his sleep. He didn't break free, however... he knew that Tsunan guy was lurking around here somewhere. That guy freaked him out the most so far, next to that smiley guy. He hated to have to guess which one was more dangerous. Inside the Yakuza, looks weren't always everything, and they were very deceiving.   
  
"Yahiko....?" a rough voice, obviously parched, called from inside the room. Yahiko nearly hit the ceiling he jumped so high. The restraints on his feet prevented him from getting up; or else he would have bounded around the room to see who else was occupying the room with him. Observing to his right, he could see a bed... the voice had come from the other side of the bed.  
  
"Who's there?" he asked curiously, albeit a little scared.  
  
"Oh Yahiko!" the voice cried again. "Where are we, why are they doing this to us?!"  
  
Yahiko's jaw unhinged. He couldn't believe his ears.... he could barely utter the words that tore from his throat.  
  
"Yu... _Yutarou_?! "  
  
* * *  
  
  
Seta Soujiro poked his head out the door to Shishio's quarters, making sure the coast was clear. He hadn't _meant_ for him to appear to be sneaking, he just... didn't want to have to make eye contact with anyone if he could absolutely help it. That, and he didn't want anyone to see him limp away from Shishio's quarters and have them suspect something.   
  
He knew Shishio would be out for a while; activities like that always left him spent, and his energy was something that was very limited giving his state of health. Soujiro was silently thankful for that, despite how sadistic it sounded.   
  
Soujiro winced as he took the first step through the door way, making his way towards his room... he really, really hated Shishio for doing this to him... isn't that why the man had bought Yumi out of prostitution, so she could be his little sex slave? Soujiro adjusted his smile, realizing it had slipped a bit. It would do no good for someone to see him that way. He needed to act natural.  
  
And Soujiro knew why Shishio did it to him... he always did this to him before battle. It gave him an edge, for afterwards was when Soujiro was near his breaking point. It was afterwards that Soujiro felt like he could take on the whole world and rip them all a new one.   
  
He just couldn't get over the pain... the hot, sticky feeling of being filled, then rammed into over and over again... and then grossly brought to his own climax by those dirty, scarred hands...  
  
Soujiro shuddered visibly.   
  
"Boy," Yumi popped up behind him, shaking her head. "You should have gotten ready by now, we're expecting Mr. Sagara back any time."  
  
Yumi noticed the trembling from the dark haired boy, and raised an eyebrow. She had seen him leave Shishio's room, where she thought that they had been discussing their plans. Soujiro was to meet their visitors and be their guide, and, if they struggled, he was ordered to kill them both. Even Yumi knew the plan well enough by now... so what on Earth was Shishio--  
  
Yumi remembered the faltering steps the boy was taking before she called out his name. Now, he merely stood, back facing her, refusing to meet her questioning stare; and yet, she could still feel the boy smiling at her.  
  
She knew from time to time that Shishio liked it that way, with other men, but.... She had no idea Shishio was using _Soujiro_ for that. "Boy--"  
  
"I'm sorry, Ms. Yumi. I'll get changed right away," Soujiro said cheerfully, flashing her his wide, ear-to-ear grin before walking off to his room.  
  
Yumi frowned. Now he wasn't limping at all.  
  
  
  
to be continued...  
  
  
  
Notes for part five:  
  
sniff sniff, WAIL! Yeah, aren't I mean? I made Soujiro into Shishio's little toy. How sick *am* I? wipes nose with tissue Oh, and for those of you who wanted a lil' side-serving of YahikoxYutarou, coughSILVERcough you got your wish, as I will explore things a little further with those two now that Yutarou's joined Yahiko. Tee hee! Oh, things just keep getting more and more mysterious, don't they? How DID Yutarou wind up there? Hmmm....   
  
As for the whole SanoxKen thing... I'm getting there, can't ya tell? ^_^ Hey, at least now they're starting to show some interest in each other. We just need to get Kenshin over that lil' speed bump of an obstacle where he admits to Sano he likes men. =D   
  
As for how long this is going to be...? Hopefully not much longer, as I have some other projects I wanna start. But don't worry, y'all'll get your lemon eventually. It's just that right now my conscience is being a little stingy bitch, limiting my perverse imagination. -__- Ah, well, gomen ne. I promise though, it's coming. ^_^  
  
  
  



End file.
